Warriors of Poseiden: Atlantis Rising Part 25

Or maybe she wouldn't. Riley didn't really know this new Quinn. The one who led werewolves into battle.

She opened her mind. Sent her emotions out into the night, seeking for her sister.

Felt nothing. As if Quinn really had died in that b.l.o.o.d.y forest. Or shut her out, once again. Hiding the things she'd done and the person she'd become.

She saddened at the thought.

"Lady Riley?"

She blinked. Focused on his face. "No. No, I have never met anyone other than Quinn who can send and pick up on emotion the way we do. I think my mother may have had the talent. Something about my memories of her..."

Closing her eyes, she sent her senses down a different path. Seeking the second person who'd moved into her heart and staked out a camping spot.

Conlan.

She felt his reaction; the blues and golds of warmth and caring flooded her.

Riley? You have need of me?

No. I...no. Be safe. Find your Trident and return quickly. Please .

His amus.e.m.e.nt s.h.i.+mmered through her, touched strongly with relief. Even at a distance, you order me about. We must discuss this penchant you have for disrespect toward royalty .

Hey, I'm part of a democracy, buddy. We kicked one royal a.s.s for our freedom, don't think we can't do it again.

Before he could respond to her teasing, the connection between them wavered. Ice shot through her veins.

Conlan?

I'm fine. Need to-need to focus. See you soon.

And his mental barriers slammed shut, throwing her forcibly out of their emotional bond.

Denal stood in front of her, fists clenched on the hilts of his daggers. "What is it?"

"I don't know. I think it's nothing. I hope it's nothing." She sank down on the couch. "Now what do we do?"

"We wait," he said, grim. "Though I should be fighting with the rest of the Seven to recover the Trident."

He was so young. Young enough to be angry when left out of a battle and bloodshed.

Or maybe it was the male in him, not the youth.

She smiled, rueful. "I'm sorry you drew babysitting duty."

It took him a beat. "What-oh, no. I am honored to serve and protect you, my lady. It is merely-"

"Don't worry about it. If I had a couple of those daggers and knew how to use them, I'd want to be in on the action, too, I guess. At least helping to protect-"

"The prince." Denal nodded. "It is true what the legends say of aknasha , then? That you can form the soul-meld so quickly?"

"The what?" Riley felt her cheeks heating up that she was so easy to read but she was curious. "What's a soul-meld?"

"It is said that when one who is aknasha truly loves, she will open to her beloved, so that he can travel inside the corridors of her heart and soul."

"Very poetic," Brennan said, entering the room. "The disadvantage of this 'hiding in plain sight' that Ven prefers with his safe houses is that the neighbors are wary of one such as myself patrolling the night."

"Drawing unwelcome attention here in suburbia, are you?" Riley asked, trying for a light tone. Denal's words had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

Truth had a way of doing that. One who truly loves .

"Hard to be inconspicuous when you're six and a half feet of hottie, Brennan. Do they have some kind of gorgeous potion in the water in Atlantis?"

She looked at the two of them, standing there all muscle and cheekbones in leather and a cascade of steel. Like they'd flashed in from some weird parallel universe where runway models wore weapons.

Denal was shaking his head. "We do not live in water in Atlantis. The dome protects us."

She blinked, then laughed so hard her sides ached, tried to explain when he got all huffy. "No, no, I'm not laughing at you, Denal. Only at myself. Dropped down the rabbit hole with Hot Models Gone Wild."

That set her off again with the worst case of the stress giggles she'd ever had, and Denal shaking his head at her only made it worse. Even Brennan smiled, though it never reached his eyes.

When she could catch her breath again, she wiped her eyes. "Okay. Sorry. Really. Sometimes it hits me like that. No doubt I'll be laughing on my deathbed. How about pizza? Two or three?"

She studied them, upgraded her plans for the order. Distraction. That's what they needed. "No, five pizzas loaded with the works. And we can pop in one of these movies. Ven may have the finest collection of cla.s.sics I've ever seen. Anybody for the original King Kong ?"

Conlan followed Alaric as they flew across town, bodies transformed into s.h.i.+mmering mist. Ven and the others followed in two of Ven's collection of cars. They'd discovered early on that modern weapons-indeed, any that didn't contain at least a trace of orichalc.u.m-failed to be changed by the magic of the transformation process.

Ven did love to have his toys with him. Man had more weapons than an armory.

And they'd surely need them. Though five of Reisen's warriors were slain, they might still be outnumbered. The House of Mycenae might have brought many, many more to guard the stolen Trident.

Why? He sent the thought to Alaric.

He believed you dead. Wanted Atlantis to take what he considered its rightful place among the land walkers. Grew impatient with the timid ways of the Council. Saw himself as king, no doubt.

Conlan heard the underlying note. You believe as he does ?

Though he was no empath, he had no trouble reading the disgust in the priest's thoughts.

If not now, when, Conlan? We are charged to protect mankind. Do we fulfill that vow by hiding like women? No, that is inapt. For your woman and her warrior sister have no thought of hiding, more's the pity .

Alaric put on a burst of more speed, as if trying to outrun thoughts of Quinn. Conlan needed to understand more about that reaction, to be sure. But there was a matter far more urgent.

Alaric, what is this doom you spoke of? A second Cataclysm?

But instead of answering, Alaric plunged down through the trees spa.r.s.ely surrounding a vacant lot that ab.u.t.ted a large, ruined-looking building.

A building filled with light and sound and surrounded by cars.

As the priest s.h.i.+mmered back into his body, he threw his head and arms back, tension in every straining muscle. "The Trident is here. It calls me-taunts me. Send for the others. We have found it."

Conlan, who'd been communicating their direction to Ven throughout the journey, sent the final directions through their mind link. Ven. Hurry .

Ven's thoughts shot back to him like an arrow. Five minutes, tops. Then we're going to make the lord of the House of Mycenae regret the day he was born .

"Five minutes, Alaric. We need to wait for the others. From the sign of the parking lot, we're seriously outnumbered."

Alaric started forward, eyes gleaming in the dark. "Mostly humans," he snarled. "I can feel them. Anyway, no matter. None of them are any match for me. I will wreak Poseidon's justice upon their flesh."

Conlan flashed in front of Alaric, blocking him. Barring his way. "You will wait. As your prince, I command it. If you are destroyed through a fluke of superior numbers, what hope is left for Atlantis?"

Alaric's face was savage. No trace of Conlan's boyhood friend shone through the vicious intent on his face. "Out of my way, prince . This is the work of a G.o.d, and you may not countermand me in my goal."

"Not as prince, perhaps. But as your friend?" Conlan put out a hand to grasp the priest's arm.

The light from Alaric's eyes burned where it touched Conlan's face, but he held his ground.

Alaric yanked his arm away, lifted his hands to call power, and bands of wind jerked Conlan off his feet and onto the ground. He battled with the element of wind to try to rise.

Alaric merely stared down at him, face like stone. "I have no friends."

And then he strode across the field toward the blazing windows of the warehouse.

Chapter 28.

Anubisa sneered at the bowed head of the so-called master vamp. Her father-husband would writhe in shame were he to see the diluted blood of their race.

Lucky for all that she'd killed Chaos when she had. She thought back to his death with sorrow.

Sorrow that it could never be repeated.

The sheer, soul-destroying ecstasy of ripping out her incestuous lover's jugular as he climaxed inside of her. His impotent rage as his seed and his blood flowed out of his c.o.c.k and his neck into her.

He'd made her a G.o.ddess of death, and she'd eaten his soul. So fitting, somehow.

But now she was left with this pale imitation of greatness who dared to try to lead.

"The fissure in the natural fabric of the elements? Did you not feel it, fool?"

He cringed at her feet, not man enough to face her. "I did feel it, Exalted One. What would you have me do?"

She almost gently swung out one silk-shod foot and kicked him with enough force to hurl his body through the air. He smashed into the wall of his chamber and slid down to the floor. Nearly boneless.

Useless.

"Rise, you pathetic sack of worm dung. What I would have you do is track it down and find these Atlanteans who dare to disturb the elements." Rage fired her eyes to a flaming red and she barely felt the blood trickling down her face from her retinas.

"And take Drakos with you. I think he may have some of the sense that you so clearly lack."

"But-"

She stilled, and the air in the chamber dropped to a temperature frigid enough to freeze human blood. So. This was what rage felt like. It had been centuries since she'd elevated her mood beyond lethargy.

"You question me ?" she asked, her voice a whisper of torrid death.

"Never," he gasped, pulling himself off the floor.

"Find the Atlanteans. Now. And I may yet let you live."

Ven drove the last hundred yards or so with the lights off, burning up the street. Atlantean night vision was an a.s.set sometimes.

Justice was out the door before Ven could shove the gears.h.i.+ft into park. Bastien and Alexios were out of the backseat on his heels.

Ven jumped out, looked up at the sound of wind rus.h.i.+ng over his head. It was Christophe, determined to travel via mist, though his strength and speed were no match for Conlan and Alaric.

Ven nodded. He understood pride.

"Conlan!" Justice's voice rang out, and Ven started running.

d.a.m.n it. Not his brother. Not again.

He pounded up to the group of warriors as Justice pulled Conlan to his feet.

"Are you harmed?"

Conlan glanced at him, shook his head, sucking in air. "No, but I'm going to kick Alaric's glowy green a.s.s for him when I get my hands on him. b.a.s.t.a.r.d magicked me out of his way to get to the Trident. Wouldn't wait for backup."

Christophe s.h.i.+mmered into form beside them, face rapt, staring toward the ugly steel-and-block building on the other side of the field. "It's the Trident," he breathed. "It's singing. I've never felt such power."

Face transfixed, Christophe stumbled off in the direction of the building, unheeding of Ven's call to stop. Bastien stepped in front of him and casually popped him in the jaw, nearly knocking the warrior off his feet.

Blinking, eyes beginning to register his surroundings, Christophe rubbed his jaw and scowled up at Bastien. "What in the nine h.e.l.ls did you do that for?"

Bastien grinned. "You've had that coming for a while. Oh, yeah, and you were in some kind of trance, too."

Conlan strode forward. "Enough. We need to fan out and figure out what we're getting ourselves into. What Alaric is likely in the middle of already. If there are any sentries, take care of them. Quietly."

Bastien drew his daggers. "Quiet is my middle name, my lord. We're golden."

Christophe snorted. "Ugly is your middle name."