Hearts in Atlantis Read online

  "This thing isn't kidding around," she said. "Is there an off switch?"

  "Unfortunately, no. If I approach it, I may be able to put it in stasis, but getting that close to it may be challenging," Alaric said. His hands glowed with blue-green light as he called to his magic, in preparation for whatever suicidal trick he was planning.

  The problem was, she didn't know how to stop him, or if she should even try. It didn't seem like a job anybody else could handle.

  "What can I do?" She scanned the room for ideas of any way she might be able to help, but came up empty. The only variance from the blank palette of bare walls and floor was a series of niches that may have been designed originally to hold plants or art, high up on the walls, above and out of the Trident's current firing range pattern.

  "What if I find a way to get up there above the line of fire and drop down on top of it? Do you have a rope--"

  "If I had a rope, I would tie you up with it," Alaric growled. He whirled to face her, and his eyes were flaring with heat and magic. "Do you ever, even once, not immediately decide to throw yourself in the middle of the most dangerous situations possible?"

  She pretended to think about it for a second or two, and then grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the path of a blast of green light that blew a hole in the door behind them.

  "Nope," she said. "Lucky for you, since you're the most dangerous man I've ever met. A sane woman would run away from you, not toward you."

  He cast his gaze up, as if asking for divine intervention, then grabbed her and kissed her so fast she almost didn't realize it was happening. Then he stepped between her and the Trident and hurled a barrage of energy spheres at it as fast as he could form them.

  These weren't the destructive kind, though. Quinn watched as the spheres joined together to form a large bubble around the Trident. The bubble at first dispersed the force of the magic blasts, and then contained them altogether.

  Quinn started clapping. "Great job. Now what?"

  Alaric didn't answer, and when she turned to look at him, she discovered why. His face was taut with strain, and he held his hands out in front of him as if physically holding the force field or energy bubble or whatever it was in place.

  "Can't hold this alone for long," he gritted out. "Go get help."

  She paused to pat him on the back. "Hey, it's the magical symbol of a god. It's got big juju. I'm impressed you managed to stop it at all."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Big juju?"

  "I'll explain later."

  She ran out of the room, shouting for help, and almost collided with Myrken, who was wringing his hands right outside the door.

  "Get all your most powerful people in there to help Alaric contain that Trident," she told him. She paused, remembering what Alaric had told Ven back in Japan. "I'm going to the palace to find Christophe and Serai. He mentioned them as the most magically powerful, right?"

  Myrken just stared at her, and she started to get mad. "Look, if this is some kind of 'we don't take orders from women' thing--"

  "Humans," he muttered. "Your gender is immaterial."

  She rolled her eyes. "Even worse, you . . . you . . . species racist. Get your ass in there and help Alaric, or I'll make sure you don't live to regret it," she snapped out in her best rebel leader voice.

  The man all but saluted and headed inside, shouting for the other acolytes as he did. Quinn didn't wait to see what happened, but ran for the door so she could go find the castle.

  Alaric fought with the brutal power of the Trident for what felt like years, until Myrken and several of the strongest acolytes arrived to help. He ruthlessly drew on their power to help contain the Trident from unleashing any more of those unstable blasts of magic. It wasn't the physical damage to the room that concerned him. The Trident's magic had been an integral part of the infrastructure of Atlantis since the continent first sank below the waves. Without its underpinning, he didn't know how long everything else would hold together.

  Conlan entered the room, followed closely by Quinn, Ven, and Erin.

  "Christophe and Serai aren't on Atlantis, but I got Erin," Quinn said.

  Erin was already calling to the Wilding, and Alaric felt the cool breeze of her human magic swirling around him, its eddies whispering dark promises of mayhem and madness.

  "Erin, stop," he said. "We can't know how the Wilding would interact with the Trident's current unstable magic, and we already know it doesn't respond well to your control here in Atlantis. You might help, or you might make everything far worse."

  The Wilding faded, and Erin nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry; it was an instinctive reaction. I wish I could be of more help, but I'm afraid you're probably right. We heard reports yesterday that magic has been misbehaving all over the world, and it started right around the time your gem was found in Turkey. I'm wondering if all of this is related."

  Myrken flashed a reproachful glance at Alaric, took a deep breath, and bowed to Conlan. "Your Highness. You are welcome in the temple, as always."

  Alaric groaned as he dug deeper for enough power to reinforce the containment field. "I think we can dispense with the courtly manners this once."

  Myrken gasped. "My lord, it's the high prince."

  "Whose ass will be drowning right along with the rest of us if we don't contain the Trident," Alaric snapped.

  Conlan nodded. "Thank you, Myrken, but Alaric is right."

  Alaric knew in a brief flash of regret that Myrken had been embarrassed by the conversation, and then he realized that it wasn't his regret. He was feeling Quinn's emotion.

  "Myrken, I want to apologize for my comments before," Quinn said, her cheeks flushing a dull red. "I was very concerned for Alaric."

  Myrken bowed deeply, but not before Alaric saw a kind of wonder in his eyes. "It is an honor to take commands from one who so obviously cares so deeply for my lord."

  "Well, let's not get carried away," Quinn muttered.

  Alaric didn't know what to say or think or even feel, as the realization hit him that, yet again, Quinn had been trying to protect him. He didn't even mind the grin Conlan aimed at him, but apparently Quinn did.

  "What is this, junior high? Don't we have better things to do than stand around smiling at each other like idiots?" she snapped.

  Myrken gasped, and the other acolytes in the room nearly fainted. The human had just spoken disrespectfully to the high prince and the high priest. Alaric had to fight to keep from laughing out loud, in spite of the dire situation. That was his woman. Defiant to the bitter end.

  Conlan's smile vanished, though, and he nodded sharply. "Yes, we do, and I need answers, now. What in the nine hells is going on and how much damage to Atlantean infrastructure will this cause? And where is Poseidon?"

  Alaric frowned, having wondered the same thing. Poseidon was perfectly content to show up whenever he wasn't wanted, so why didn't he show up when he was desperately needed? Only he could truly contain the Trident's power.

  "Poseidon, I petition you for your assistance," he called out, in a thunderous voice supported by magic. "Please come to our aid and to the aid of Atlantis."

  They all waited, almost holding their breath, for several long moments, but silence was the only response. Poseidon either wasn't listening or didn't care. They were on their own.

  "Huh," Quinn said. "I don't suppose he has an iPhone? BlackBerry? Skype?"

  Myrken glared at her, but Alaric just shook his head.

  "No, although it would be easier, wouldn't it? If he'd ever answer his phone, that is."

  "Yeah, he seems more like the 'press 1 for godly intervention, press 2 for unwanted interference with your love life' kind of guy," Erin said.

  Ven snorted, but then looked nervously around. "Let's not mock the god in his own temple, okay, Erin?"

  "What can we do?" Conlan asked, directing the question at Alaric. "Is there enough power here among your people to sustain this? We need for you to go after Poseidon's Pride, and even you can't be in two places
at once."

  "It should hold," Alaric said, gingerly testing the perimeter of the containment field with his magic.

  "It will hold," Myrken said firmly. "I will make sure of it."

  A commotion at the door heralded the arrival of Justice, who strode quickly into the room, his long blue hair flying unbraided around his shoulders.

  "We're in big trouble," he gasped out, winded. "Huge. Whatever was going on here has damaged more than just the walls in the temple. Lights are out, power is fluctuating, and worse. Much worse."

  He paused to suck in a deep breath. "I ran all the way to and from the dome. We're in big trouble, everyone. The blast somehow damaged the dome itself. Tiny cracks, no bigger than a hair, have formed all over the surface."

  Justice took another breath and stared straight at Alaric. "The dome is going to fail, and we're five and a half miles underwater. Everyone on Atlantis will die."

  Chapter 15

  At the portal landing area, next to one section of the dome, an hour later

  A single drop of water.

  Only one.

  Quinn and the rest of the group stared at that single drop of water as if it held the answers to all the questions of the universe. It was impossible, or so they'd told her, but the impossible drop beaded along the edge of one of the thousands of cracks and then trickled down the side of the dome to the grass.

  And Quinn's latent claustrophobia flared into excruciating existence.

  "It's really true," she whispered, as if any sound could send the whole structure crashing down around their ears. Of all the ways she'd imagined her demise over the years, death by suffocation and drowning, while being crushed by water pressure, had not even once been among them.

  Figured.

  "What are we going to do?"

  Alaric put an arm around her and pulled her close to his side, as if he could protect her from anything, even a collapsing dome over a soon-to-be-lost-for-real continent.

  "We shore up the dome's magical barrier, continue to stabilize the Trident, kill Ptolemy the pretender, retrieve Poseidon's Pride, restore it to the Trident, force Atlantis to rise, and save, as you would say, the day," Alaric said calmly.

  But she was aknasha, and even as fiercely as he was shielding, she could feel that some very strong emotion was going on under that veneer of control. Not quite yet "oh, god, oh, god, we're all gonna die" emotion; not Alaric, maybe not ever that, but certainly "oh, holy whale shit, how am I going to pull this out of my ass" emotion.

  She was feeling kind of "oh, holy whale shit" herself.

  So it was more than a little surreal when one swam by. An actual whale. She stared into its massive eye as it looked back at her, and she wondered hysterically if they could hitch a ride.

  "How can a whale survive down here at this pressure?"

  "There are many species of marine life who have adapted to a deep, deep sea environment," Alaric said.

  She knew it wasn't important, given the situation, but it was still interesting.

  "We will also start evacuating everyone we can through the portal, but it takes no more than several at a time, so it would be an impossibility to save everyone that way," Conlan said, lines of strain clear on his face.

  "Riley and the baby must go," Quinn said immediately. "Are they even awake?"

  "Yes, I sent to her to grab whatever she needed for the baby, and Marcus, my captain of the guard, will escort them here in a few minutes," Conlan said.

  "You will go with them," Alaric told Quinn. "If I have to throw you into the portal myself."

  "I'm not leaving if there is anything here I can do," she said. "I can help organize the evacuation. I've had a lot of experience with large groups over the past ten years."

  Alaric's eyes glowed such a hot green she was almost distracted from their argument. "Don't your eyes get hot when they get all glowy like that? I'd think it would fry your eyeballs. You're going to get cataracts or something. Also, haven't you learned by now that you can't order me around?"

  Alaric snarled--actually snarled, like a feral animal--and she was only saved from whatever he'd been about to say when the portal suddenly flared into existence.

  "What is this?" Conlan took a step back.

  "Did you call?" Alaric asked.

  Conlan shook his head. "No. Riley's not here yet."

  That same deep, resonant voice she'd heard before spoke from the heart of the portal. "You have need, Quinn Dawson?"

  Quinn's mouth fell open. "What? No, I don't need you. Thanks, but I'm going to stay and help out--"

  The rest of her words were cut off as the portal swept Quinn into its center. The last thing she saw was Alaric leaping after her, reaching for her, before he crashed to the ground as both she and the portal vanished in a vortex of swirling light.

  All she had time to think was Oh, he's going to be so pissed off, before the portal abruptly dumped her onto a street that looked vaguely familiar.

  "Oh, how did she do that? Is she part of your act?"

  Quinn blinked in the early light of what she realized was dawn. They'd somehow spent the entire night dealing with the Trident, at least if she'd stayed in the same time zone this time. The elderly woman who'd asked the question about an act was dressed in pink from the hat perched on top of her blue-tinted white curls to the tips of her neon-pink tennis shoes.

  "What act? Where am I?" Quinn looked around, but her tired brain hadn't yet caught up with the rest of her.

  "Tied one on last night, I bet," a man said. He was not wearing pink, but a very large blue sports jersey that said TEAM BEER and strained against his oversized belly. "Doesn't even recognize the Naked Cowboy."

  Quinn whipped her head to the side, and sure enough, there he was in all of his not-so-glorious reality. The Naked Cowboy. She looked up, and up, and up, and confirmed she was standing in the middle of Times Square, New York.

  The portal certainly did have a sense of humor.

  She suspected the members of the NYPD approaching the group, however, did not, and she was carrying three knives and two guns. Two unregistered guns for which she did not hold a concealed carry permit.

  She smiled at the tourists and bowed with a flourish, as if she were indeed part of the act, ducking her head to avoid photographs, and let out a relieved breath when the police kept moving on by. Then she started walking, slowly and nonchalantly, as if she had all the time in the world, in the opposite direction. She was exhausted, starving, and worried sick about her sister, her nephew, Alaric, and everyone else in Atlantis. One problem at a time, though, and the only one she could solve in the middle of Times Square was breakfast.

  After purchasing a bagel and coffee from a sidewalk vendor with some of the small amount of cash in her pocket, she headed down a side street, away from the tourist heart of the city, to eat, caffeinate, and think. She spent a few more of her precious dollars on a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap, since her face had been plastered all over the news by Ptolemy and his stunt. As she approached an electronics store, she noticed a crowd gathering in front of its banks of screens.

  "What's going on?" she asked a man wearing a couple of weeks' worth of straggly beard, a ragged flannel shirt, and jeans at least three sizes too large for him. He smelled like he lived in a doorway and, unfortunately for him, he probably did. The vampires in Congress weren't big on spending money on social programs for homeless humans.

  They preferred to just eat them.

  She schooled herself not to flinch at the stench, though. She didn't want to insult a potential source of information any more than she wanted to hurt his feelings, and anyway, there had been times in her life when she hadn't had a roof over her head, either.

  "They're talking about that Atlantis fella again. Says he's going to unite with the vampires, since the United Nations won't listen to him." The man looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Nice-looking bagel."

  She broke off half and handed it to him. She'd been hungry, too, more times than she could
count. "Another press conference? Dude's a glory hound, isn't he?"

  "Yeah, but not till eight A.M. Wants prime coverage, I guess."

  The news reporter on the screen arranged her too-perfect features into a smile. "So there you have it. Ptolemy Reborn, who claims to be the rightful king of Atlantis, will be holding a joint press conference with the mayor and Senator Hengell at nine. Back to you, Ann!"

  Quinn ventured one more question before she moved on. "Where is that, do you know? That building she's standing in front of?"

  The man rolled his eyes. "Didn't take you for a tourist. That's City Hall."

  Quinn thanked him and headed off, careful to amble like she didn't have a care in the world, as she heard the news anchor on the TVs behind her make a reference to Ptolemy's message for "alleged rebel leader Quinn Dawson."

  "Hey! Hey, lady!"

  She ignored the shouting and kept walking, only hurrying her pace a tiny bit. Nothing too suspicious to any observer.

  "Hey, thanks for the bagel!"

  Her shoulders slumped in relief, and without slowing, she raised a hand in acknowledgment and kept right on going. She didn't take a full breath, though, until she'd reached the end of the block and rounded the corner.

  That was too close. Any one of those people could have recognized her through her pitiful disguise, and then what? She didn't have time to be detained. She needed to find Ptolemy, retrieve the gem, and return it to Alaric before he blew some kind of magical gasket trying to keep the Trident from blowing up the dome.

  Alaric was probably furious by now. She couldn't help it; she grinned.

  "You won't like me when I'm angry," she growled in true Bruce Banner fashion, and then she started laughing when a woman passing by gave her the finger.

  "Oh, yeah. I'm in New York."

  She finished the coffee, dumped the cup in a handy trash can, and headed for a souvenir shop to find a map of the city. She needed to be at City Hall by eight.

  Alaric paced and ranted and swore and raved until Conlan threatened to hit him over the head with the nonpointed end of a spear.

  "She's gone. Unprotected. Every single murderer and thug on the planet will have seen her face by now, and she's up there all alone because the portal has decided, for the first time in all of recorded history, to do whatever in the nine hells it feels like doing!" Alaric was shouting by the end of it, and Conlan narrowed his eyes and picked up the spear.