Atlantis Rising

Chapter 33

Riley snapped her phone closed, noting that the batteries were going to die any minute if she didn't charge it. "You didn't happen to bring my tote bag with us from the other house, did you? My purse and cell charger were in it."

The four men in the room looked at her like she'd just asked them to go shoe shopping.

She narrowed her eyes. "This is important, okay? Quinn's only way to contact us is my phone, since you don't exactly carry phones around in your water particle state."

"Your bag is in the front hallway on a table," Ven said. "Now maybe you could fill us in on the other half of that phone call."

"Bear with me, because this is kind of crazy. But Quinn says that Senator Barnes is really an ancient vampire named Barrabas, and that he's the same Barrabas—"

"Freed by Pontius Pilate instead of Jesus Christ. Yeah. We know," Conlan said.

She blinked. "Are you kidding me? You knew this? You might have mentioned it sometime. 'Oh, hey, earthlings, your new Senate leader is one of the worst criminals in history' for example." She heard the anger and sarcasm in her voice, but didn't care.

"Really? As if a people who allowed bloodsuckers to take over their government were going to listen to us about Barnes?" Ven snapped, his anger matching hers.

"Focus, people. This doesn't help now. What did Quinn want?" Conlan asked.

"She found your people. Well, Reisen and his people. She says she had a meeting with a high-level vamp who is working with the revolution undercover. Somebody named Daniel. He is going to help her get them out tonight."

Alaric stepped forward, eyes gone savage and glowing a fiery green. "Help her? Help Quinn? Is she insane? She's going to storm the fucking Primus?"

"Daniel says Barrabas has the Trident. Plans to torture the Atlanteans until he figures out how to use it. So my insane sister is helping to save your ass, priest." Riley didn't understand what board Alaric had up his butt about Quinn, but she wasn't going to put up with it.

Quinn might not be as fragile as Riley'd thought, but it was still Riley's job to protect her. She thought of Bastien and smiled grimly. I've got your back, Quinn.

Conlan stepped forward and effortlessly took command of the room. Whatever X factor it was that made a man into a king, Conlan had it in a big way.

Her insecurities mocked her. So what makes you think you 'refit to marry a king?

Hove him. That's all. That's enough.

"An hour max to get loaded up. We're on our way to D,C," Conlan ordered. "Riley, you—"

"No way am I staying behind, so get that out of your mind," she interrupted.

"But I need to know you're safe," he said in what must have been his "reason with the peasants" voice.

She folded her arms, sent a big wave of stubborn through their bond. "Not. Happening. Besides, look how well that turned out last night."

She felt the capitulation in his mind before he nodded. "All right. But you stay out of the line of fire, do you understand? If anything happens to you…"

She went to him, put her arms around his waist. "I know. I get it. I feel the same way about you."

Alaric stalked to the doorway, paused to look back at them. Riley saw the wildness in his eyes. "I'm leaving now. I'll meet you there."

"You can sense the Trident now?" she asked him.

"No. But I can feel Quinn." She caught the flash of pain before he slammed shut his own mental shields. Wondered at the cause.

What exactly had happened between Quinn and Alaric during that healing?

She added it to her mental list of "things to officially worry about later" and headed after him to the hallway to get her bag. She had an hour to charge her phone.

Oh. Yeah. And to prepare for the end of the world.

Less than four hours and fifty or so broken traffic laws later, they were on the outskirts of D.C. in a neighborhood so bad even the police didn't like to hang out there.

Riley could feel Quinn long before they arrived. She sent out a push to try to communicate in words instead of just emotions. Somehow she felt like her talents in that area had increased a little bit since she'd had a chat with a god.

Quinn! Can you hear me?

Riley? How are you—oh, you've changed. The power emanating from you is lighting up my corner of the world. What the hell have you been up to?

I had a heart-to-heart with a sea god, who apparently claimed me for his own. Life is… interesting.

There was a silence, as if Quinn were choosing her words carefully.

Riley, what is this? Is this big and bad on an apocalyptic level?

Yeah. Yes, it is. I'll explain as much as I can as soon as we get there.

Another silence. Finally Quinn spoke in Riley's mind again.

Okay, get here soon. And, Riley?

Yes?

He's here. Alaric. I can feel him in my blood. He's… near.

I know. We need to talk about that, too.

She cut off the communication, feeling a headache center itself over her eyes from the strain. She may have become more powerful, but unused muscles needed to be trained.

If she lived long enough.

She shook her head, put her hand out to rest it on Conlan's leg as he drove. He glanced at her, eyebrows drawn together. "Are you all right? Was that Quinn?"

"Yes. We're almost there."

He nodded, concentrating on the road and the always hideous D.C. traffic.

Almost there. And tonight the shit hits the proverbial fan. What have I gotten myself into this time?

But she looked at his strong profile and knew there was nowhere she'd rather be.

Conlan took point going into the abandoned building that Riley assured him was Quinn's headquarters and base of operations for the East Coast cell of her freedom fighters. He couldn't persuade Riley to stay behind, but he could damn well protect her from at least the front wave of any ambush.

Ven and the rest of the Seven fanned around and behind her, weapons at the ready. "I wonder how long the hubcaps on the Hummer will last?" Ven said under his breath, probably trying to get Riley to smile.

"Oh, they're already gone, I bet," Bastien said. "Never liked that car anyway."

Christophe laughed. "I put a little zinger on the cars. If anybody goes after them, they're in for a surprise."

Conlan ignored the banter, led the way down a battered and graffiti-covered staircase at Riley's direction. Didn't like it one bit.

They hit the bottom step and found a dozen armed guards waiting for them, all dressed in old jeans and leather jackets. They looked like hoodlums or homeless people, until you noticed the very new, very shiny guns in their hands.

Conlan and the Seven immediately drew their weapons and aimed them. Riley pushed her way through to stand next to Conlan and shook her head. "Nice show, Quinn. Now call them off."

The man in front, huge and built like a warrior, slowly bared his teeth in what he probably thought was a smile. Civilization was a bare veneer over the savagery in the man.

Conlan knew instantly that this was the leader. Nodded his head to the man. "I am Conlan of Atlantis. This is Riley, Quinn's sister. If you're not the people we seek, we'll walk out of here. Try to hinder us, and you'll die for your trouble."

The man gave an almost-imperceptible signal, and the men with him lowered their weapons. "Quinn! Looks like it's family reunion week," he called out.

He held out his hand to Conlan. "Jack Shepherd. I help out."

Quinn walked out of a small door behind Jack, arguing with somebody on the telephone. "No, it's now or never. I need that stuff tonight. Or by morning at the latest."

She held her hand over the receiver, nodded to Riley, looked at Jack. "Dawn?"

He nodded, body radiating a fierce tension. "Dawn. If your friends agree that it's better to hit the bloodsuckers at daylight?"

Conlan inhaled deeply, subtly called power. The elements sang to him, but the earth's song was the most piercing. He looked at Jack. "And how about you? Is it better for you and the other shape-shifters to hit at dawn, too?"