by Jade Kerrion
He strode up to Jackson as the first mate supervised the loading of the speedboat with enough supplies to get four people through seventy-two hours. “You have a gun?” Varun asked in lowered tones.
Jackson nodded, his face grim. “Expecting trouble?”
“Probably. I’m not sure it’s something a gun will fix, but it wouldn’t hurt to have options.”
“You have anything besides your wits?” Jackson asked bluntly.
“I’ve got a knife.”
“Ever used that on anything alive?”
Varun thought of the Beltiamatu he had fought with it. “Yes.”
Jackson studied the grim set of Varun’s eyes. “All right, then.”
“Just…” Varun inhaled deeply, wondering how to caution Jackson against the improbable creatures he might see—some of which might be friendly. More importantly, most of them would be unique. “Don’t shoot first.”
“Now, that’s crazy, you know? If something’s going to attack, you’re always better off getting the first shot.”
“I don’t think it’s always clear when something is going to attack. All I’m saying is, don’t be hasty.”
“I’ll be sure they inscribe those words on your gravestone,” Jackson retorted.
“That’s unnecessarily morbid.”
Jackson scowled. He stared at the ocean, his back resolutely turned away from the island. “Nothing’s been right since we left Bar Harbor. The storms out of nowhere. The tidal waves coming straight at Kalymnos. The underwater volcano explosion.” He shook his head. “I tell you…she’s bad luck.”
“The captain?”
Jackson straightened and cast Varun an incredulous look. “The captain? No, not the captain. Your gal pal, Ondine.”
“Ondine?”
“It’s not good luck having a woman onboard.”
Varun decided that now was not the time to remind Jackson that Ashe was female, if not precisely a human woman.
Jackson’s scowl deepened. “She’s always in her cabin. She’s got something to hide.”
“She’s seasick.”
“Convenient excuse, ain’t it? Never seen anyone seasick for so long, even in calm seas.”
“We haven’t had much of that, though, have we?”
“And her name…” Jackson continued as if Varun had not laid out fact after fact to counter his growing list of accusations. “Ondine. Undine. She’s a sea creature. A mermaid. Siren. Bad luck either way.”
Varun blinked. How could Jackson be so close to the truth, and yet point the spotlight on the wrong person?
On the other hand, nothing about Ashe’s irritable, abrasive personality shrieked mermaid. Her personality was obviously her strongest defense.
Varun cleared his throat. “Jackson, back on Kalymnos, during the storm when the captain—”
Jackson tensed but, with effort, smoothed away the furrow between his brows. “I thought I heard the captain in my head.”
Yes, you did.
“Ain’t heard it since.” Jackson shrugged. “Stress, you know. A big wave was headed our way. I even thought I saw faces in the water. Stress does all kinds of things to a man. Besides, folks who work together closely all the time develop an understanding, know what I mean?”
Varun nodded. If Jackson wanted to cozy up to the lies he had conjured about his brush with Ashe’s powers, then Varun would leave him to it. It was not his job to shatter another man’s fantasy.
But Ondine?
It was ridiculous to imagine that she was anything but Ondine Laurent. The wealthy Laurent family could trace their bloodline back to European royalty, including the Medici dynasty. Their family history—a source of pride—was recorded in painstaking detail. The newest generation was no exception; the family chateau in Switzerland and their holiday home in the Hamptons were filled with photographs of Ondine from all stages of her life.
Jackson’s expression shuttered, and he jerked his chin at something over Varun’s shoulder. Varun turned around to see Ondine walking toward them. She wore hiking pants, a long-sleeved cotton shirt, and boots. She carried a small backpack, too. Her practical appearance notwithstanding, Varun would not have been surprised to find non-survival necessities in her bag.
After all, the rich had different views as to what constituted a necessity.
Varun met her halfway and took her hands in his. They were cold. They were almost always cold these days. “Are you sure you want to come? You’ll be much safer and much more comfortable on the ship.”
“I’ve changed for the trip, haven’t I?” she snapped, but her sideways glance at the speedboat, already bobbing in the water alongside the Veritas betrayed both hesitation and fear.
“It’s a sturdy boat,” Varun assured her. “I’ve been in it multiple times. It’ll rock more than the ship because it’s so small, but it’s not going to capsize. You’ll wear a life jacket as a safety precaution, but you don’t have to worry about going over. Besides, Jackson, the captain, and I will be there too.” He tightened his grip on her. “Are you okay?”
Ondine huffed out her breath. “Yes, I’ll be fine. It’s just…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “It was so long ago. I don’t even remember it. It shouldn’t affect me anymore.”
“Would it help if you talked about it?”
“How am I supposed to talk about something I don’t remember?” She shook her head. “I was three. We were on the yacht sailing along the Malacca Straits, from Penang to Bali. Somewhere between Sumatra and Java, a storm blew up, apparently out of nowhere, and I was tossed off the yacht.” Ondine’s shoulders shook but her voice remained oddly detached as if reciting something she had been told.
He stroked her back gently. “But you were found. You were all right.”
She huffed out her breath. “I was found bedraggled and half-drowned on an isolated island. I don’t consider that all right.”
“It could have been far worse. You have a hell of a story and a scar to remember it by.” Varun finished the tale he had heard more than once. He touched her chest, over her heart. The indented scar—a circle with a line beneath it—possessed the deliberate perfection of a tattoo. “It was a great deal for a little girl to go through.” Varun smiled, mostly for her benefit. “In spite of it all, you came on this trip. I’m glad you’re here.”
“You’re probably the only one.” Ondine’s lips shaped a moue of distress. “The captain thinks I’m a useless annoyance, and everyone else doesn’t want me here.”
“Sailors have superstitions. They don’t like women on board—”
“The captain is a woman!” Ondine flung her hands up, almost striking Varun.
“That’s too obvious to mention, but it hasn’t occurred to them, unfortunately. They see the captain as one of them; her gender’s irrelevant.”
“Well, that’s not fair.”
“No, it isn’t.” Varun chose not to mention that life was rarely fair.
Jinn’s squawk drew Varun attention away from Ondine. “Ready to leave?”
Varun glanced at the gray parrot as it spread its wings and soared low over the deck. “Are you coming too?”
“Of course, dumbass.”
Varun grimaced. That had to be the parrot, right?
Ashe chuckled. The crew around her snickered. She jumped off the rail, landing so lightly in the speedboat that it did not even rock. Her innate command of the air likely had a great deal to do with her graceful descent.
Varun, however, could not count on air to cushion his fall, so he climbed down the ladder to the speedboat. Ondine followed, and Jackson brought up the rear. The first mate glanced up at the Veritas as the speedboat, with Ashe at the helm, pulled away from the larger research vessel. “You all stay alert, mind!” he shouted at the crew leaning over the rails. “Any time I radio for help, you come right away, you hear?”
“With what, Jackson?” Corey, the genial, bearded medic laughed. “You’re in the only speedboat.”
Jackson shook his fist at t
hem. “Paddle the life raft, damn it!” Scowling, he took his seat at the back of the speedboat. “Damn clowns. Kicking a man when he’s down.”
“You volunteered to come,” Varun pointed out quietly. He kept his gaze on Ashe’s back. Her blue-green hair streamed in the breeze; the air seemed to caress her, unlike the harsh wind whipping into their faces, making their eyes sting. Could no one else see how the air danced to her whim? Did no one else notice how the laws of nature and scientific proofs seemed optional around her?
Was Ashe even aware of what she was doing?
Probably not, Varun grimaced. It was probably as natural as breathing to her, not that she even needed to do that.
He glanced overboard, his stomach pitching at the jagged teeth of rocks just below the surface of the water, so close that he would touch them if he only extended his hand.
He looked up and met Jackson’s gaze. The first mate nodded. “The Veritas couldn’t have made it in here. No way, no how. Watch your head, man.”
Varun straightened as the speedboat coasted between the rocks that provided an inch of clearance, perhaps less, on either side. He pressed his hand against the rock as they passed. It was not volcanic magma worn smooth by the wind and the waves. The rocks were, as he suspected, the remnants of the island. He frowned at something in the distance, a section of rock that seemed straighter and smoother. “That look like anything to you, Jackson?”
The other man frowned. “A bit like a wall, ain’t it?” He dug his hands into his deep pockets, probably wrapping his fingers around his gun. “What’s out here, captain?”
Jinn cawed, “Nothing anymore.”
Jackson persisted. “What was out here before?”
Good man. Varun stifled a smile. He was certainly catching on to Ashe’s not-quite-lies.
“I’ve never known it to be anything but this. Legends say, though, that there used to be a city here.”
Varun’s jaw dropped. That was far more disclosure than he had expected from Ashe.
“What kind of city, exactly?” Jackson asked.
“How many legends are there of cities lost to the sea?”
Jackson’s jaw dropped. “Atlantis?” He straightened, his shoulders stiffening. “But Atlantis was out near Santorini, right? That crescent that looks like most of the island fell into the sea?”
“People certainly think so.”
“But the Mediterranean was the hub of culture way back when Atlantis was around.”
“And you were around then, too, were you, to speak of it so certainly?”
Jackson frowned. “Well, all the experts say so.”
Ashe shrugged. She still had not turned to face them. Her attention was focused on the sea and the island ahead of her. “A city did vanish when the volcano on Santorini exploded many centuries ago, but it was not Atlantis. Atlantis was here—at the crossroads of the oceans—the only harbor available to any ship attempting to cross the Atlantic. It was the only place to stop, and it could not be touched by war. No ship possessed enough resources to reach it and still wage an effective war. Untouchable, unassailable, Atlantis dominated the trade between the continents.”
“And then what happened?” Jackson asked, the reverence in his voice indicating that he was as transfixed by Ashe’s story as were Varun and Ondine who listened in wide-eyed silence.
“And then they went to war with the wrong people.”
“Who?”
“It’s said Atlantis was beautiful,” Ashe continued as if she had not heard Jackson’s question. Even Jinn’s voice seemed less raucous, almost as if the parrot understood the somberness of the topic. “A city designed by artists, ten perfect miles across, and twelve towers evenly placed along the walls, each one representing the twelve noble families. The city’s streets expanded in concentric circles from the center of the island—the thirteenth tower—the god-king’s residence.”
“The god-king?” Varun stiffened. “Then he wasn’t human?”
“Not entirely, or so the story goes. He was descended from people who came from the stars.”
Who then went on to reside in the seas of a nascent planet. The Beltiamatu. Varun inhaled shakily. So, there was more than just a passing connection between the merfolk and Atlantis.
And the falling-out had been disastrous.
Chapter 10
Ashe’s words, conveyed though Jinn’s voice, breathed a chill into the wind skimming alongside the speedboat.
Next to Varun, Ondine shuddered, her arms folded across her chest—for warmth, or perhaps for protection.
Jackson, however, was not as easily cowed or convinced. “People from the stars? So now you’re saying there are aliens.” Jackson folded his arms across his chest.
“Shhh…” Ondine swatted at the first mate. “Let her tell the story. You can argue with her later.”
“So,” Varun interjected. “This half-human god-king…”
“He wanted Atlantis to be more than an island nation. He wanted to extend his rule.”
“And that was a bad thing?”
“Some thought so.”
“So they destroyed Atlantis?”
“They fought, and they lost.”
Varun noticed that Ashe was not too specific about which group had actually lost.
Ondine darted a glance at Varun. “Is this for real?” she asked quietly.
Since discovering that Ashe was a Daughter of Air, Varun had decided that the best way of staying out of trouble was to answer a question with a question. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure. It sounds so wild. Like how does she even know this?” Ondine swallowed hard. “But she acts like she knows what she’s talking about. She couldn’t possibly. I mean, she’s barely in her thirties.”
Not quite, Varun mused. More like on the far side of three hundred, considering Ashe’s age as a mermaid, plus the two hundred and ninety-seven years Ashe had spent as a Daughter of Air, but it was rude commenting on a lady’s age.
Especially when no one would believe him.
Varun drew a deep breath. “How about we just play along for now? If it’s not true, we’ve at least enjoyed a good story, and if it is true, then there’s no harm in staying alert, just in case.”
Jackson nodded, his expression grim.
Varun noticed that Jackson’s hand remained in his pocket, close to his handgun.
“What should we expect out here?” Jackson asked.
Ashe shrugged. Perched on her shoulder, Jinn squawked, “I don’t know. I’ve never been out here. Never had a reason to. I’m going to circle the island. See if you can find us a good place to land.”
The islet in the former center of Atlantis was a jagged three miles across with sheer cliffs on most sides. “That’s looking like your best bet, captain.” Jackson pointed to a section of the cliff that was merely intimidating instead of impossibly sheer. “I can probably make it up that and anchor a rope to something sturdy.”
“No, you take the controls. I’ll climb the cliff.”
Jackson opened his mouth to protest. Varun caught his eye and shook his head. Who the hell knew what was up there? Whatever it was, Ashe was best equipped to deal with it.
The first mate grimaced, then said, “Aye, captain.”
Varun opened the supply hatch and pulled out the coil of rope. It shifted only with a huge heave. He grunted under its weight as he handed it off to Ashe.
Her eyes narrowed, and the dancing breeze around her strengthened into a strong gust. Varun concealed a smile. She was cheating again. With a heavy coil of rope slung around her shoulder, Ashe climbed up that rock cliff with far more ease than anyone, except Varun, would have expected. Jackson’s eyes widened, and he nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his lips. “Hell, I’m impressed.”
Varun had to admit he was too, especially knowing what he did about Ashe. She could have flown up the cliff, but had taken the trouble to blend in, and for the most part, she did it exceedingly well. Her grasp was sure, and he was almos
t certain the times she stopped to search for the next handhold were merely for show.
Ashe vanished over the top of the cliff, which was about fifty feet above sea level. Moments later, she tossed the rope down to them. Jinn spiraled overhead, calling out instructions. “Varun, you first. Then the equipment. Then Ondine. Jackson, you’ll come after you anchor the boat.”
“Aye, captain.” Jackson helped Varun secure the rope safely around the harness and gave it two hard tugs, before waving up at Ashe. “He’s set.” Jackson gave Varun a friendly slap on the back. “Up you go.”
The first step off the gently rocking boat onto the cliff was harder than it looked, almost like choosing between Scylla and Charybdis. Varun realized his heart was thumping hard in his chest. What was he, a marine biologist, doing rock-climbing up a mysterious islet in the middle of the Atlantic? Heck, it wasn’t as if he were a whip-toting archeologist like Indiana Jones. He did most of his work in a laboratory, surrounded by petri dishes and microscopes.
But Atlantis…
If Ashe were right—and he did not doubt it for a moment—he was standing on the brink of the largest discovery of the century.
That thought was enough to get him off the boat and up the cliff, but the palms of his hands started to sweat, and saliva refused to slide down his too-dry throat. Small rocks embedded in the rock wall served as natural hand and foot holds, but the only evidence that they were strong enough to support his weight was that Ashe had gone ahead of him.
His scientist’s mind spurned the feeble evidence. Ashe climbing a cliff using scant hand and foot holds was no different from a bird sitting on a branch. The bird did not trust the strength of the branch to support its weight. It trusted the strength of its wings to take to flight.
Ashe was proof of…precisely nothing.
If his heart thudded any faster, it might have broken his ribs. Varun drew in a deep, shaky breath and lunged for the second handhold. Falling would suck.
In the boat, Jackson chuckled. “You’re okay, man. Rope’s secure. You may fall, but you’re not going to hurt yourself too badly.”
